My life is a cliché
by HarryPotterFanWhoYouDon'tKnow
Summary: This is my life. As much as I wish it was just a badly written fanfiction, it isn't. I'm stuck with it. Yes, it is a cliché. From beginning to end, that is what it will be. But I'm done drowning in self pity. I need to live my life, because I have less time than most.


**My first ever Harry Potter story! And probably more meaningful a story then most of my others. I never like writing detailed summaries of stories, because it ruins the story by giving it away. But this fanfiction means more to me (for my own private reasons) than any other that I have written, so please, don't be too harsh.**

_We all have our faults..._

_I, perhaps, have more than many..._

_The silver lining?_

_My cloud isn't that lucky..._

My name is Arya Lothlathen. I'm in my 3rd year at Hogwarts School of Wichcraft and Wizardry. Suffice to say, it _isn't_ the dream that so many muggles today picture it as. Or perhaps it is. Maybe it's my differences that make it so hard for me. My mother used to call the "my little quirks". Of course, she's long gone now. My story is almost to cliché to be true. Girl living with just her father, having difficulties coping – the classic story. But I guess that's what I am. Cliché.

No, I'm not a squib. I don't struggle with schoolwork. My problems aren't obvious upon first glance. They aren't easy to find, but trust me. They are there. More there then even aspects of my personality. Like I said before – I'm a cliché. Everything about me seems like a badly written fanfiction. I wish. If only my life was simply a story, if only I could close the browser. I'm stuck with what I have, like it or not.

Look – even the opening of my story is cliché. Born in a happy family, they didn't discover my problem until I was 7. My parents were happy for so long. But when they discovered it, everything went wrong. My parents started arguing. My mum cared for me so much, but when they got divorced my dad won custody. My mum couldn't bare it. She vanished out of my life, and I was left with just my dad. I don't know why he wanted custody of me. Probably to torture me, blame me for my mother leaving. I just don't know anymore.

When we got my letter, he seemed so happy. Happy to be free of me. When he found out that I had to come home during Summer – well he wasn't happy. Now, every Summer, is torture.

See? As cliché as could be. You're probably wondering what my problem is. Can you tell? Most people can't. Once, when I was 9, I met a woman who seemed to know instantly. That was a year after mum had left. The woman embraced me, and I cried. Looking back on it, it is so strange, so strange that I instantly trusted her, instantly felt connected. But when I blinked, she seemed to disappear. I've been looking for her all this time, but I haven't found her.

My problem. The reason I'm telling you this. You can't tell it at first glance, or second for that matter. People I have known all my life still have no idea. I have Chronic Leukemia.

I have no physical symptoms. The doctors found it in my blood test when I was 7. The worst part is that it wasn't my fault. Nothing I do could have prevented it, because I was born with it. Basically, I could collapse at any moment. I'm incredibly lucky to have survived to the age of 13. Right now, there is no cure. Not even St. Mungos can help me.

But I can't let my disease stop me from living my life. When I was first diagnosed, I spiralled into a depression. Yeah, a 7 year old with severe depression. When mum left a year later, it got even worse. Dad didn't help. I picked myself up out of the depression, alone. It's up to me to keep going on.

My disease isn't supposed to hinder me socially, but in a way it does. I have very few friends. Whenever people find out about my disease, they treat me with false sympathy. Act smothering and sympathetic to a level where it is creepy, yet fear me. They're scared of me, they treat me like I'm contagious. At least I'm not alone. I have Shyna to help. She picks me up when I feel like I can't go on. I guess I'm luckier than most to have her. I see the "popular" girls walk past in the corridor. They taunt me without even knowing. They call me stupid, friendless. Yet are they really popular? If it came down to it, not one of their friends would stay and fight with them.

Even in the classroom, my disease doesn't do that much to me. Sure, I get confused easily, and sometimes I get really dizzy, but I can overcome that. It seems so crazy to me the way that people use their problems to get out of trying. I'm not a straight O student, not even close, but I don't just get D's either. If I work hard, I can find myself with A's, even E's.

My life – it's different. The days are longer for me, and far more painful. The nights are darker. But I'm not all that different to you. I suppose, in a way, my cloud does have a silver lining. I've moved on from self pity. It helps no-one. I just have to keep going, living my life, because I have less time than most.

**Well there it is, the end of chapter one. Reviews are appreciated a lot. Like I said at the start, this story means a lot to me, so please don't be too harsh.**


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